


The Moustache

by kateyboosh



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: A fluffy happy ending, And it definitely gets fluffy, And so fun to write, And the keeper's hut finally catches on fire, Anyway I'll get out of the tags now and actually post the last chapter bye thanks for reading!, Apologies, Banter, But things aren't as they seem, Concept fully inspired by MamaZoom, Dodgy Howard turns up too, Emotions, Every fic I write is going to end up with a kiss, Facial hair is grown, Facial hair modified under the light of the full moon, Fastidious and thorough Howard, Fossil is a glorious agent of chaos, Heroic Howard makes one of several appearances, Howard goes on an adventure, Howard in a towel, Howard out of a towel, Howard reaches his destination, Howard wears his second best travelling costume, I mean, I'm eyebrow waggling at you right now dear reader, If you thought I liked hiding in the tags on tumblr then welcome to my tags on ao3, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Katey adds more ridiculous things to the Zooniverse map, Katey adds ridiculous things to the Zooniverse map, M/M, No Returns, Okay fine I'm getting out of the tags now bye, Poor Howard though, Ratings change because I forgot what I wrote at the end, Sorry Vince, Thanks MamaZoom love you, The Return of Chaotic Fossil, The Zoo Times, There are nuns, Things will be made right, This is my promise in the tags, Vince and Howard are best as a team, Vince gets surprised, Vince wears Howard's Zooniverse jacket, What's the result? You'll see, When are they ever, With the gift of responsibility, You know how they said every show should end with a kiss?, it happens twice, never fear, no wait, shameless fluff, sorry dude, tags to be added as we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/pseuds/kateyboosh
Summary: An adventure for the Zoo Times, with a healthy dose of Radio Show weirdness, ample Bob Fossil chaos, Howard getting beaten up by the universe, and Vince and some facial hair. And, oh yeah, the keeper’s hut eventually catches on fire.
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 29
Kudos: 19





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [MamaZoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom) blowing my mind with a genius comment on the classic "Noel with a 'tache" pic. But what if Vince did grow a 'tache? And what if Howard did (eventually) stroke it reverently? These questions answered (eventually) and more.

“Staff announcement: will the broad-shouldered, big-boned Howard Moon please report to my office? I’ve got a job for you, Moon, and don’t make me wait - I’m eating pickles with ketchup and orange juice, and it’s getting cold!” 

Howard cringes, leaning his broom against the wall of the Koala Palace, inwardly rolling his eyes at Fossil’s latest directive. He huffs a sigh and wonders how long he can ignore the announcement in favor of sweeping up the stray eucalyptus leaves that litter the enclosure. For marsupials that are supposed to sleep 20 hours a day, the koalas really can make a mess of things quickly. 

Fossil’s voice booms from the loudspeaker roughly three seconds later, with a jarring and quite frankly annoying barrage of, “Moon, Moon, Moon… Moon, Moon, Moon, Moon.” Howard glares at the speaker tucked into the corner of the Koala Palace and pauses in his work, counting to five before sweeping one lone leaf into the growing pile at his feet. Immediately, Fossil’s voice blares at frightening volume, “MOON! MY OFFICE! NOW!”

Howard drops his broom, kicks through the neat pile of leaves, and heads in the direction of Fossil’s office.

*

Howard doesn’t bother to knock before entering. During his time at the zoo, he’s seen any and every version of unspeakable act or inexplicable action on Fossil’s part. Sometimes, he’s even been coerced into participating (but he tries not to recall that in great detail, thanks very much). So, it doesn’t much surprise him that when he enters, Fossil is sitting behind his desk, bathed in candlelight, with an embroidered napkin tucked into the neck of his blue safari suit, a place setting in front of him, and knife and fork clutched in his hands. His plate is empty, of course, and he’s enthusiastically sawing at the air with his knife, then spearing at it with his fork. He chews daintily while regarding Howard, burps, then pats at his mouth with the napkin. 

Howard feels another eye roll coming on. “Mr. Fossil? You needed to see me?” 

“Mr. Fossil? You needed to see me?” Fossil parrots back at Howard, staring up at him with a beatific grin on his face.

Howard can’t help the eye roll this time. “Do you actually need anything from me? Because I have some work to do over in the Chameleon Boudoir if-”

“Of course I have something for you to do. What do you think this zoo is, a ballet matinee in springtime Paris? With all the birds singing in the pear trees and everyone wearing stripey tights? Take these, and head to the Tiger Pit. Mr. Sprinkles and Jackie Three Paws need shining up before the big cat parade at 3.” Fossil jabs a pair of comically large toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste at Howard. “And don’t skimp, really get in all the crevices. Put your powerful elbows to use, Moon,” he finishes with a slightly demonic waggle of his eyebrows.

Howard stares dumbfounded for a moment at Fossil, as he pours more air from a teapot into a teacup and takes an appreciative sip. “Mr. Fossil? It’s incredibly dangerous to try to brush a tiger’s teeth without using anesthetic. I’m not doing that.”

Fossil cocks his eyebrow at Howard, and loudly slurps air out of his cup - twice - before replying. “Is that so, Moon? Well, as head keeper, it’s your responsibility, so get to it. Oh yeah, and this came in the mail today.” Fossil slides a thick burgundy envelope embossed with his name and the Zooniverse’s address in fancy silver script across the desk to Howard. “It looks really important, but I can’t read cursive writing.”

Howard groans inwardly, but picks the envelope up and slides the invitation partially out. He silently scans the embossed silver script, which reads, “By order of the Official and Esteemed Society of Zookeepers: Zooniverse Manager Bob Fossil is kindly invited to appear at the First Annual Convocation Of Zoo Professionals for prestigious enrichment training.” In slightly smaller script, “All expenses paid - two week conference - exotic location” is embossed. There are four tickets of varying shape and size inside as well - one for a plane, one train, one boat, and one small but very expensive looking admission ticket to the conference. 

Howard feels his luck changing as he meets Fossil’s expectant expression. 

*

Howard is wearing his second-best traveling costume as he and Vince walk to the Zooniverse gates, Vince half-carrying, half-dragging Howard’s large suitcase in one hand, and tilting his cowboy hat up to a jaunty angle with the other. No point in showing up to the conference with his best outfit wrinkled and rumpled from the rigors of travel to a remote location, no sir, Howard thinks. It wasn’t difficult for him to convince Fossil that the invitation was actually for a gathering of all head keepers instead of zoo managers. Fossil would only get lost traveling, or sell the zoo for a shiny trinket if he was allowed out of his office, Howard thinks. Truth be told, he’s doing Fossil a favor by attending in his stead.

Vince breaks him out of his reverie by waving a hand in front of his face. He’s beaming up at Howard, radiating sunshine at the prospect of an adventure together. “Howard? Have you been listening to anything I was sayin’? This trip is going to be genius! Did you tell Fossil that you were bringin’ me as well, or should I go tell him before I get my bags? I have seven so far, for the essentials, and I used a little leftover space in your suitcase, but I can prob’ly knock it back to six if-” 

Howard hesitates for a moment before placing a hand on Vince’s shoulder and breaking in. “Here’s the thing, Vince. This conference is very prestigious. It’s for elite keepers only. Yes, you’re a gifted child, but you’re just not at that level yet. As head keeper, it’s my responsibility… nay, my sworn duty to the zoo and to the animals to send the best representative to soak up all the information on offer. You should be happy for me, Vince - this will be a real feather in my cap of zoo knowledge.” Howard takes his hand off his heart, his expression a cross between earnest and pompous as he mimes tipping an imaginary hat to Vince.

Vince’s smile fades the further Howard delves into his speech. “What d’you mean, ‘on your level,’ Howard? I can talk to animals! Besides, it’s not even supposed to be a conference for head keepers, it’s a conference for zoo managers! And how can you put a feather in your cap when you ain’t even wearing one?!” Vince finishes squeakily but indignantly, as he gestures at his own very real cowboy hat. The hat’s lost some of its jaunty angle as Vince’s distress increases.

“I’m sorry, Vince, but I only have one admission ticket to the conference, and they don’t allow guests. But don’t worry - while I’m away, I’m entrusting you with all the duties of head keeper.” Howard stares into the middle distance, sweeping at the horizon with his outstretched hands. “Just imagine it, Vince. You’ll grapple with the giraffes, wrestle with the rhinos, pontificate with the pandas. Do a good job, and who knows, it might lead to a promotion.”

Vince sulks under his hat. “Gee, thanks a lot, Howard,” he says quietly, scuffing his cowboy boots against the pavement as he drops Howard’s case next to the Zooniverse gate. 

“Hey, don’t be upset, little man. It’ll be a good learning experience for you, getting to walk in the head keeper’s shoes for two weeks.” Vince cuts his eyes down to Howard’s scuffed, yet sensible traveling boots as Howard’s cab to the airport pulls up outside. Before Vince can protest at the idea of those well unfashionable, scruffy, too large boots going anywhere near his feet, Howard pulls him into a tight goodbye hug. 

When Howard lets go, Vince looks momentarily surprised, eyes wide and brow slightly furrowed. He starts swaying from side to side, staring up at Howard with his lips pursed coyly. “Howard? Howard, what’s that in your pocket?” he says, cheeky grin on his face.

“Ah, silly me. Nearly forgot… your first duty as head keeper,” Howard states, producing toothbrushes and toothpaste from the generous pockets of his second-best traveling costume with a flourish, thrusting them into Vince’s hands. “Now, the big cat parade is at 3, and the tigers need a good going over before Bainbridge gets here for zoo inspection. Don’t be afraid to really get in there, Vince. Use your monkey strength.”

The cab driver honks the horn to punctuate Howard’s statement as he stoops to pick up his bag and open the gate. Vince’s eyes grow to the size of saucers. 

“I’ve really gotta be getting a move on, Vince, but I’m sure you’ll do great. I left a detailed itinerary of duties for you, and you should be fine if you stick to the schedule. Just remember, you’re on night watch every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Wednesday nights should be free,” Howard says as he ducks into the cab. Vince feels a temporary ray of hope for his evening social life before Howard rolls down the window and continues, “For cage deep cleaning duty. See you in two weeks!” he finishes, waving cheerily as he pulls away on his solo adventure.

Vince waves back with a jumbo tiger toothbrush in one hand, completely and utterly dumbfounded.

*

The first leg of Howard’s journey is uneventful enough. He enjoys the peace and quiet of the cab ride to the airport, stretching out in the backseat and taking the three of the four tickets out of the inner pocket of his traveling costume to spread on the seat next to him. First, a short plane ride, then a well-deserved night’s rest in a plush hotel instead of a few winks caught in his sleeping bag on the draughty floor of the keeper’s hut in between Vince’s funny, snuffly snores during night watch. His trip will be capped off by a train ride down to the docks in the morning to catch his boat, arriving at a destination in a country he… hasn’t actually heard of before.

The Official and Esteemed Society of Zookeepers must have chosen a very exclusive, very posh, very exotic city for their inaugural conference, he thinks. A well-kept secret between those conference attendees in the know, in fact. Best way to keep the conference crashers out, picking a relatively unknown location, yes indeed. Howard leans his head back against the seat, face a picture of bliss as he imagines the important zoo professionals he’ll meet, the connections he’ll make, the intelligent and classy ladies he’ll charm….

When they arrive at the airport, Howard pays his fare, then remembers the silver script of the invitation that stated “all expenses paid,” and leans back into the cab to peel off a few more euros as a generous tip. “Thanks a lot, can I get a receipt for that?” he starts to say. The cabbie stares at him for a moment before peeling out, laughing in delight and drenching Howard’s traveling costume with a spray of mud. 

Howard frowns, but decides that a few euros lost at the beginning of the trip shouldn’t ruin the rest. Besides, this is why he wore his second-best outfit to travel in. A little bit of dirt won’t upset Howard Moon, international traveler and esteemed head keeper. In fact, he thinks, it just adds to his rugged, manly appeal. 

Howard stands up straighter, clearing his throat, puffing out his chest and straightening the lapels of his jacket. If he was wearing a tie, he would have adjusted that with a deft twist of his wrist, too. He settles for patting his inner pocket with a grin, feeling for the heavy, rich paper of the tickets. His face falls when he reaches in and finds the three travel tickets missing. He checks his outer pockets, thinking he must have misplaced them, and covers his face when he realizes he left them lined up on the back seat of the cab. 

Howard momentarily panics, but then realizes it’s not a problem - he still has his conference admission ticket, and the invitation did say all expenses paid, after all. Surely the Official and Esteemed Society of Zookeepers won’t blink at reimbursing him. He reaches for the wad of euros he’s stashed away over the past year in a nondescript, dented metal tin on the highest shelf of the cupboard in the zookeeper’s hut. He rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration when he realizes the reason for the cab driver’s joy. Before starting off on his journey, he’d decided to put the biggest bills on the outside of the fold of cash, in order to impress any fellow conferencegoing ladies into thinking that every bill in the stack was five hundred euros. He meant to tip the driver with a few five euro bills, but he’s given him a few five hundred euro bills instead. 

Just when Howard thinks it can’t get any worse, it starts to downpour, drenching him to the skin. 

*  
Vince is well and truly worn out after his first full day as head keeper. His arms ache from sweeping out the rest of the Koala Palace (they really do make a mess for marsupials that sleep 20 hours a day, he thinks). And his back hurts from pushing heaping wheelbarrows of feed to the Weasel Den for their Semi-Annual Weasel Feast Celebration and Open Mic Poetry Slam (at least the wheelbarrow full of miniature bongo drums was lighter). As tired as his body is, his head is buzzing when he flops down onto the small sofa in the keeper’s hut and puts a throw pillow over his face. Between feeding, cleaning, running ridiculous errands for Fossil, and guiding some of the more enthusiastic zoo patrons away from trying to climb into the bear enclosure for pictures, he is well shattered.

Vince sighs underneath the pillow, and tries to distract himself with happier thoughts. He faithfully stuck to Howard’s provided itinerary, for the first fifteen minutes at least, and he did brush the tigers’ teeth without incident. Once he’d chatted the pair up, complimenting their amazing stripes and their powerful paws, it was easy enough to get them grinning and minty fresh. He’d even promised them pedicures in the week, as Jackie Three Paws purred and Mr. Sprinkles rested his large, warm head in Vince’s lap, gently headbutting his torso. 

Vince lets the pillow slip away from his face, eyes closed, smiling at the memory. He wishes Howard was there to have seen it happen, and to have helped him navigate Fossil’s many requests through the day. He wasn’t exactly sure why it was the duty of the head keeper to sing ancient Gregorian chants while Fossil performed frightening morning calisthenics in his office (definitely not on), or why Fossil needed help dialing the phone to make an afternoon’s worth of pranks calls to a convent. Although that one was fun, Vince has to admit - he never expected to hear a holy sister turn the air blue after being on the receiving end of Fossil’s penguin joke routine. 

Vince really wishes Howard was around for this evening’s night watch, to make the long hours pass with his stories and jokes and interesting facts about the zoo and the animals. Secretly, night watch with Howard is Vince’s favorite time, when all the animals are tucked up asleep in their burrows and it’s just the two of them together, with warm cups of tea on their bench, and no pressing demands or distractions until the next morning. 

As much as Vince has missed Howard during the day, he finds that the night time hours are even worse.

*  
It’s been three full days (and nights) of walking, and Howard Moon, esteemed traveling gentleman, head keeper, and all-around man of action, finds himself lost. Of course, he has a rough idea of where he’s going, having found the previously unheard of conference location on a map before leaving the Zooniverse. The problem is, he’s not sure where he actually is right now, and not sure how to turn himself back around to find his starting point. And to add insult to injury, he really wasn’t expecting to find himself in what can only be described as a desert. 

Howard had briefly considered using the last of his small stash of euros to catch a cab back to the zoo from the airport three days ago, but he banished the thought from his mind. Where was his manly sense of adventure? Besides, what would he tell Vince after returning half an hour into his journey, soaking wet and a few thousand euros poorer? That would be a sad example to set. Best to press on, he told himself, as he tripped stepping down off the pavement and watched the rest of his euros slide into a drainage grate.

Howard sits down on his suitcase underneath a sparse palm tree to pour the accumulated sand out of his boots and catch his breath. At least he’s out of the pouring rain now, and his brisk pace across the desert has dried out his traveling costume. If he can figure out a way to get his bearings and decide which way is north and which way is south, he still has a chance to make it to the conference. He’ll miss out on some of the early seminars, yes, but he’ll be fashionably late, and that will certainly make a roguish, devil-may-care impression on the female population. 

Reinvigorated, Howard gets up and decides to pick a direction at random. He grimaces when he sees that both of the latches on his rather large suitcase have decided to break in tandem, and he won’t be able to carry it by the handle unless he wants the case to fall open and spill his best traveling costume into the sand. Howard carefully picks the case up in both arms, feeling the warmth from the sand radiate into his body as he rests the case gently against his chest. It makes him think of night watch, and carrying Vince back to the keeper’s hut after he’s crashed out on their bench, protesting, “M’not asleep, Howard, m’just restin’ my eyes,” as he nuzzles into Howard’s neck.

For a moment, as he watches the sun drop down to the horizon, bathing the desert in golden light, Howard’s heart tells him to turn back. Howard’s stubborn pride, however, makes him put the case firmly under one arm, and put one foot in front of the other.

*  
It’s been three full days (and nights) of head keeper’s duties, and between wrangling escaped sloths on the loose terrorizing zoo staff and patrons alike, and teaching, then re-teaching Fossil the alphabet so he could remember the zoo filing system, Vince is exhausted. He flops onto the couch in the keeper’s hut and curls up. 

It’s not often that Vince feels disheartened, but the head keeper’s responsibilities are nearly constant, and it’s overwhelming without Howard around to talk to. Vince has done admirably, of course, using a combination of his natural talents and signature charm that neither human nor animal can resist. But, for all the time he and Howard spent together, he never realized just how much Howard could do during one shift. He misses Howard horribly.

Vince sits up, noticing a crumpled shape on one of the seats of the chairs for the first time. It’s Howard’s Zooniverse jacket. He must have tossed it there in his rush to leave, and Vince has been far too busy feeding and scrubbing and hauling to spot an article of misplaced clothing. 

Without hesitation, Vince crosses the room and slings the jacket over his shoulders, over his own uniform jacket, and cuddles into the fabric, drawing the long arms tight around him, remembering the sneak attack hug Howard wrapped him in before leaving for the conference. He catches sight of himself in the small mirror over the couch. He’s got eucalyptus leaves dotted in his hair (those koalas are getting ridiculous, he thinks), and he’s in need of a shave. Another thing he hasn’t had time for since taking on Howard’s duties. 

Vince runs his hand over his face and smiles at the start of the moustache forming above his upper lip, then breaks into a wide sunshine grin.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard reaches his destination, we pop back to check on Vince at the Zooniverse, and then we meet the Directors of the Official and Esteemed Society of Zookeepers. Uh oh.

Howard’s lost count of the days that have passed. He’d no sooner crossed the desert to find himself journeying through a very dark, very deep forest, full of mist and creaking branches. He wishes Vince was with him for the millionth time, to crack a joke and break the tension as he tries to tiptoe through a clearing full of crunchy leaves. His sensible boots are nearly worn through, and pinching his feet horribly. When he reaches the edge of the clearing, he puts down his suitcase and gingerly sits, catching the collar of his second-best traveling costume on a nearby branch. He winces as he hears the fabric tear and feels a cool breeze on his back. 

Fine. If that’s how it’s going to be, then.

Howard pulls off his torn jacket and his boots, carefully taking his admission ticket out of his pocket before throwing his worn clothing as hard as he can into the clearing. The resulting thump negates the way he had carefully negotiated across the crunchy leaves, but it was satisfying - a worthwhile release after so many days of frustration. 

Howard flings his suitcase open. He’ll just have to be very, very careful with his best traveling costume. He still has a chance to make the conference. He’ll turn up a little more rumpled than planned, but he, Howard Moon, man of action, can make it. He can pull it off, charm the conferencegoers, woo the ladies….

The top layer of Howard’s suitcase is what he can only describe as a massive pile of sweets. Flying saucers, wine gums, liquorice allsorts, jelly babies, black jacks, fruit polos, parma violets… he’s frankly amazed that Vince had been able to fit his spare sweets stash into the suitcase. As he excavates through the layers to find his change of clothing, Howard cringes. He pulls back his hand and his best suit comes out with it, sticky and caked with a rainbow of half-melted sweets and grains of sand courtesy of the desert.

Howard stares at the ruined suit as the mist from the forest swirls around him ominously, and slowly peels the sticky fabric from his hand. There’s something odd stuck to the back of one of the trouser legs, so he peels that off too, and holds it up to the fading light. It’s a box of his favorite tea, with a big smiley face inked by Vince’s hand on the top in marker pen. 

Howard feels the anger at the loss of his best suit fade as he realizes Vince had put in the box of tea to make sure he would be able to drink his favorite brand, even if they didn’t have it in a different country.

*  
As the light over the Zooniverse fades, Vince tucks in the flamingos and parrots in Birdland, checks the door to the Reptile House, and practically skips back to the keeper’s hut. As the days have passed, Vince has slowly but surely learned how to balance all of the head keeper’s duties. He still finds Fossil’s numerous daily requests well weird, and isn’t expecting that aspect of the job to improve any time soon, but he does feel less tired and overwhelmed at night. 

Vince feels best when he crosses off another day on the calendar, and knows that Howard is that much closer to returning to the zoo. Not long now, and then he’ll hopefully never have to put everything back in order on Fossil’s desk after the man had swept all his supplies onto the floor, weeping that he found a blue paperclip in his rainbow assortment, after he had specifically requested they be removed.

Vince whistles a happy tune as he drapes Howard’s jacket over his shoulders and puts the kettle on for a cup of tea before starting night watch. While he waits for the water, he grabs a bag of Howard’s favorite tea from the cupboard along with Howard’s favorite mug, then inspects his moustache in the mirror. It’s coming along nicely, thick and vivacious, growing in with the breakneck pace of youth and adding another striking feature to his face. Vince tips his mug in satisfied salute at his reflection in the mirror. He can’t wait to show Howard when he returns.

*  
Howard stumbles through the misty bracken. He abandoned his suitcase a while back, when the added bulk became too much to navigate through the thick forest. The branches are so dense and knitted together that he can’t tell if he’s snagging the fabric of his suit on them, or if it’s his sweet-sticky suit catching the leaves instead. 

Just when Howard thinks he’s well and truly stuck in a massive tangle of branches (a worse snarl than the time Vince got that bat stuck in his hair, he thinks), he pops through to the other side. He finds himself at the edge of the forest. 

Howard takes a moment to orient himself to the open air, picking some of the flowering tendrils of vines out of his tangled hair. He rubs his tired eyes, and blinks. Then, he blinks again. He thinks he can see a faint orange glow on the horizon. Almost like city lights.

Howard takes a deep breath, and starts running.

*  
Howard Moon, traveling gentleman and man of action, has done it. He has done it! Against all odds, and with the forces of nature and the universe against him, he has reached his destination. Pulling his admission ticket out of the pocket of his forest-debris covered suit along with a twig and a bit of moss, he gives a polite but powerful knock on the ornate door in front of him. 

When he’d reached the city, slightly winded from his sprint, he was surprised to find the streets were bare. No people, no vehicles, nothing. For a posh city, he’d expected a more rollicking nightlife. Perhaps early nights in were the new trend? Regardless, he spotted helpful signs that pointed in the direction of the building the First Annual Convocation Of Zoo Professionals was held in, and now he was finally here, ready to be enriched with zoo knowledge. And hopefully with a warm, comfortable bed, a hot meal, and a soothing shower beforehand.

The door silently swings inward as Howard readies his admission ticket along with a winning smile. He opens his mouth to introduce himself, but finds no one to introduce himself to. He peeks around the door and sees a well-lit hallway dotted with plush furniture and paintings on the wall, but not a soul around. 

Howard’s voice wavers. “Hello? Is there anyone there?” He takes a tentative step forward into the hall and is met with an indignant shriek. Well, more of an indignant squeak, really. He leaps backwards, hitting his head on a very ornate, very solid wall sconce. Once his vision stops spinning, he looks down at his feet to find a tiny caramel-colored mouse in a green paisley waistcoat rubbing his tail in outrage. 

“Watch where you’re going, you boneheaded caveman! You big-booted lumberjack! You… you… you… filthy forest tramp!” the mouse sputters, completely incensed and pointing his dainty paw at Howard in what would have been a threatening manner if it wasn’t wholly adorable. “Get out of here at once, before I’m forced to call security!”

Howard puts both his palms up in what he hopes is a non-threatening manner. “Whoa there! You’ve got it all wrong, little fella. I’m no lumberjack. Howard Moon, international traveling gentleman, man of action, and conference representative for the Zooniverse in Bob Fossil’s stead, at your service. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” He shoots his most winning smile at the mouse, and once the tiny creature has caught his breath, he slowly reaches into his pocket and produces his admission ticket with what he hopes is a grand and impressive flourish, deserving of a man of his caliber. Out of everything he’d brought on the journey, it was the only thing that had survived unscathed, including his suitcase, shoes, and traveling costumes. And (to be completely honest) his pride. 

The mouse’s tune changes immediately as Howard bends down to put the silver-embossed ticket in the creature’s outstretched paws. He giggles, putting a tiny paw to his forehead and shaking his head, then taking the tip of Howard’s finger between his paws for a handshake. “Oh, my dear Mr. Moon, please accept my most gracious and sincere apologies for mistaking your identity,” he squeaks, adjusting his monocle to inspect the ticket. “I am Sir Reginald Augustine Prescott Kingsley-James the Fourth, Senior Greeter of the Official and Esteemed Society of Zookeepers for the First Annual Convocation Of Zoo Professionals. If you’ll follow me, we’ve been anticipating your arrival with great merriment and celebration, and have prepared your chambers with special attention to detail. First, please come this way, to the Grand Hall of Reception. The Directors of the Official and Esteemed Society are waiting to meet you.” Sir Reginald produces a small walkie-talkie as he gestures for Howard to follow him, asking the recipient on the other end to amend the reservation for Mr. Fossil of the Zooniverse to the honored Mr. Howard Moon instead.

Howard’s winning smile shoots up several notches into a beam. Ohhhh yessss… all of that is music to his ears. The entire board of Directors, waiting to meet him, Howard Moon? Well… after his journey, he expects nothing less. His reputation as a very important zoo professional precedes him, after all. Once he meets the Directors and they offer him the chance to close out the conference with a dramatic, yet heartfelt and emotional speech detailing his life and career, it will make his entire onerous journey worthwhile. Who knows… if he can work his patented Moon charms right, he might even get offered a spot on the Directors’ board…. 

*  
As Howard walks down a long corridor with Sir Reginald, past vases full of exotic flowers and overstuffed armchairs, he can’t help but feeling a bit… shabby. He catches sight of his reflection in a massive gilt mirror as he strides past, and feels his confidence deflate a bit. He wants to make an impression of sophisticated suavity on the Directors, not one of a backwoods bumpkin strolling in off the farm, covered in ferns and dead leaves. 

“Ah, Sir Reginald? Hah, so formal… can I call you Reggie? Uh, never mind, sorry, formal’s good,” Howard says, as the diminutive creature turns and fixes him with a withering glare. “Could I perhaps have a moment to freshen up before I meet the Directors? Put the old traveling costume back into shape?” Howard pats his suit jacket and winces as several puffs of robust forest pollen float out to dust the expensive Persian carpet. And the velvet-flocked wallpaper. And Sir Reginald’s tiny monocle.

Sir Reginald plucks a handkerchief from his waistcoat and after wiping his face aggressively, consults a miniscule pocket watch. He clicks his tongue, stating, “I’m afraid we shouldn’t keep the Directors waiting much longer, Mr. Moon, as some of them have engagements this evening. An important man of means such as yourself certainly understands the pressures that time can exert. We could spare a few moments, however, so you can put yourself back in some… semblance of order. I will press on ahead, and announce your arrival, so do not dawdle in your toilette.”

Howard and Sir Reginald come to the end of the corridor. Sir Reginald gestures to the left, where gentle sounds of string music and flickers of candlelight float down the hallway from a large, open room. A long, imposing conference table lined with chairs is the main feature of the room, although no one has been seated. “I will gather the Directors and we will be waiting there for your arrival. You will find a grooming salon behind the third door to your left. I don’t want to rush a gentleman of your caliber, Mr. Moon, but you understand that time is of the essence.” 

“Of course, of course, Sir Reginald. No worries, you can count on me. You can set your watch by Howard Moon, that’s what they say. Tell the Directors I can’t wait to meet them. Thanks very much,” Howard enthuses, his voice increasing in volume as he watches the small creature disappear into the room at the end of the hall. 

Howard walks three doors up the corridor, pauses, then promptly enters the third door on his right.

*  
Howard’s first impression of the grooming salon is not a favorable one. Firstly, it’s cold, and secondly, it’s dark. Surely something to take up with the Directors once he’s met them and gained their confidence. He fumbles for a light switch on the wall and flicks it. Wow. Thirdly, instead of a sink and a mirror and perhaps even a shower stall and some expensive soap and at least two, maybe three fluffy white monogrammed towels on a heated rack, there’s a stark metal cage full of limp straw, with a name plate attached. Howard peers at the plate, and is shocked to find Bob Fossil’s name crossed out, and his own carved haphazardly underneath. 

That… can’t be right. Not after his white lie to Fossil, not after his arduous journey. Not after leaving Vince behind to cope with the head keeper duties all on his own. Surely - surely - this has to be some type of mistake. Some type of hilarious joke or hazing on part of the Directors. Maybe it was their very large, very strange version of a trophy, an award for Top Cage Cleaner of the Year. Or something. That has to be it. 

Howard snaps the lights back off and steps into the corridor, pressing himself against the recessed door. He can hear movement down the hall, and the whisper of chairs sliding back from the conference table. When he hears the click of expensive-sounding high heels against the tiled floor, he shrugs and chances a peek out.

Oh, shit. 

It isn’t high heels. It is definitely, assuredly, emphatically not high heels. 

It’s the sharp echo of hooves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, it's a cliffhanger. ;)


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard lives up to his man of action title and returns to a sparkling fresh Zooniverse. Jealousy rears its head, but he and Vince come to the resolution that they're better as a team. While they're stuck together. Also, it's fluffy. Also, they kiss.
> 
> This chapter features the line that immediately popped into my head after initial inspiration from [MamaZoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom).

The Directors of the Official and Esteemed Society of Zookeepers settle themselves around the table. It’s a veritable menagerie - apes in power suits, peacocks in thick-framed glasses, zebras and giraffes and an assortment of lizards in buttondowns and wrap dresses and strands of pearls. A small cadre of ducks in cashmere cardigans waddle in, followed by a wolf, an ocelot, and several otters in neatly pressed khakis.

A hush falls over the room as a shoebilled stork in a highly tailored three piece suit enters. He sits at the head of the table, settling his feathers into place before calling the directors to order with an imposing glare around the room. The stork turns slowly to where Sir Reginald is perched on the tile floor, and inclines his head, indicating that he can begin the briefing. The tiny mouse scurries up the leg of the conference table and straightens his waistcoat primly, strolling down the length of the table as he speaks. 

“Good evening, directors. First order of business: our human zoo project. As you know, invitations were sent out to the most suggestible and least intelligent zoo managers… those that would be susceptible to believe they were chosen for a prestigious course, swayed by the promise of an all expenses paid trip, and foolish enough to come alone to a remote location. Unfortunately, we have not had a response until this evening.  
I regret to inform the board that while we didn’t manage to acquire Bob Fossil for our project, he did send an underling… Herbert, or Harwood, or something of the sort. Truly not the specimen we were hoping for, but he should do well enough for year-round display. Under dim lighting, of course.” 

Howard feels himself freeze in place. The cage with his name on it is no odd joke or bizarre award. These animals are out for revenge against any keeper they can acquire and file away in their human zoo. And he’s been foolish enough to think that his chance at bettering himself with prestigious zoo enrichment was real. To think that the directors would have ever considered him an equal. To think that he could have impressed them, won them over with his charms and his confidence. They don’t even want him, really - he’s just a consolation prize, an afterthought. In their estimation, he’s a poor substitute for Bob Fossil, a man who needs a weekly refresher course on how to sharpen a pencil.

As the directors dissolve into a series of disappointed murmurs and tuts (well, more like a series of disappointed caws, chirps, and grunts), Howard feels his heart drop. When he doesn’t bumble into the conference room like the absolute idiot fool that he is, the directors will get suspicious. They’ll come looking for him and find him cowering in the doorway. 

Oh, cruel fate… from the life of a humble and hardworking head keeper to the life of a caged and kept man, put on display for all to mock and poke at with sticks. His life full of promise and poetry cut short. He’ll never see the Zooniverse again. Never sweep another leaf. Never set up another feeding schedule. He’ll never watch the sun set over the Zooniverse grounds, ready for a cup of tea and an evening chat on a bench during night watch. He’ll never see Vince again. 

Above all of the dark thoughts swirling and twisting in his head, he can hear Vince’s voice, light and teasing, can picture him exactly as he looked two weeks ago, his eyes twinkling with mischief, toeing the ground with his cowboy boot and swaying back and forth. Come on, Howard, after all that bangin’ on about bein’ a man of action, this is what you’re gonna do? Beg for your life all crumpled up like a wet sack, and weep in a doorway? That is not on.

Howard draws himself up to his full height and sets his jaw. He turns around as quietly as he can, creeps back down the corridor, and once he’s out of earshot, breaks into a sprint.

*  
It’s finally, finally the big day, and Vince’s heart feels so light, he’s practically bubbling over with anticipation as he floats down the path towards the Koala Palace. He thinks he might burst like a rainbow colored soap bubble in the breeze. Howard will be returning from his trip today, strolling through the Zooniverse gates full of knowledge and bravado. 

Secretly, Vince hopes Howard will bring him back a present. Just a tiny trinket to show that he had been thinking of Vince as much as Vince thought of him during their time apart. Maybe some exotic sweets or fashion magazines showing the impeccable style of the locals. Vince would even consider a book as an acceptable present in this situation, as long as it was coming from Howard. Especially if it had some pictures. In color. And if it was under a hundred pages total. But really, Howard’s return and the delighted reaction Vince expects he’ll have once he sees Vince’s moustache is enough of a present. 

After he sweeps up the eucalyptus mess once again and gives the koalas a stern talking-to to keep their area clean for Howard’s return, Vince checks his watch. He should have made a countdown calendar to cross off the hours til Howard’s return, he thinks, butterflies rising in his stomach and a little smile creeping towards the corners of his mouth. 

The loudspeaker in the corner of the Koala Palace sounds, breaking Vince out of his happy thoughts. “Vince Noir to my office, Vince Noir to my office. Quick like a bunny, Vincey. These lacy curtains aren’t going to hang themselves, ooo la la.” Vince shakes his head, but his smile doesn’t fade. Not even Fossil and his bizarre demands are going to steal the joy out of Vince’s heart today.

*  
It’s midafternoon at the Zooniverse, and Howard still hasn’t returned. Maybe his flight was delayed, Vince thinks, stroking his moustache. He’s gotten through all of his head keeper’s duties quickly today, needing a constant distraction from checking his watch. With a few more hours to go til the end of his shift and the start of night watch, Vince decides to head to the Ape Salon. He spotted more than a few primates that could do with a monkey cut and color to be looking their best for Howard’s return. A nice relaxing chat with the apes would be just what he needs to take his mind off of waiting.

*  
It’s a whirl of scissors and hairspray and curlers as Vince puts the finishing touches on his last client, holding his hand mirror out for Mrs. Henderson to admire her wild new perm. “Now, be sure you don’t wash it for a couple days, and don’t let anyone go near it for grooming for at least 24 hours so it can set, Mrs. H. And be sure to tell your friends, ten percent discount on all services for their next appointment,” Vince calls after her as the orangutan swings up and away, excited to show the other apes what magic Vince has worked. 

Vince packs up his dyes and straighteners and shears before sneaking a glance at his watch. It’s definitely well past the time that Howard should be back. He leans out to look up and down the path, hoping that when he turns, Howard’s broad shoulders will be filling up his vision. No such luck. He takes a quick moment to make sure his moustache is in order. For less than two weeks’ growth, it is truly a fine, fine moustache, and it would definitely not be on for Howard’s first impression of his ‘tache to be unruly. 

Once he’s satisfied, Vince grabs his beauty case, and hears a noise - almost like the rustling of leaves - on the path. He spins around, delighted, thinking surely it must be Howard, but no one’s there. Probably the koalas in the eucalyptus again, he figures, huffing a sigh and heading for the Palace. One more cleanup before the full moon shows his face and Vince starts night watch. Hopefully, he won’t be alone.

*  
Howard isn’t exactly sure how he reached the Zooniverse, but quite frankly, he doesn’t care. Bits and pieces of recrossing the city, the forest, and the desert at top speed trickle through. Funny what the fear of being trapped in a human zoo by a group of terrifying anthropomorphic animals can do for motivation and directional sense. 

As he limps through the Zooniverse gates, relief at being in a familiar surrounding flooding his body, Howard briefly thinks about how badly he wants a shower followed by a change of clothing. And a period of hibernation to rival the bears. He’s distracted from his thoughts of a six month long nap (maybe a year would be better, if he’s being honest) when he notices how orderly and clean the Zooniverse looks. The cages are spotless and the animals are groomed so neatly they look like something out of a storybook. It even looks like the buildings have had a fresh coat of paint. 

Howard peeks into Fossil’s office window, which is garnished with a lovely set of quaint lace curtains, and is dumbfounded to see Fossil sitting at his desk, speaking on the phone with confidence as he signs his name in triplicate on a document that’s not written in crayon. He backs away from the tableau before Fossil can spot him, and walks in a daze towards the Ape Salon, gaping at his surroundings. Could the… glow that the Zooniverse has taken on really have happened in the two weeks that he’s been away? 

*

As Howard nears the Salon, he spots a slim figure speaking animatedly to one of the orangutans, and stops in his tracks. It’s Vince, but not the Vince that Howard left behind, the one that he pictured before he made his mad dash from the lair of the Directors. He’s… different. Howard’s overtired brain tells him that in two weeks as head keeper, not only has Vince has made so many improvements to the zoo (improvements that would have taken him months of painstaking effort), Vince has grown a moustache of epic proportions (another thing that would have taken him months of painstaking effort). When the orangutan swings off and Vince preens in the mirror, arranging his moustache, Howard sneaks closer. 

After the dual insults of his horrible journey and the demeaning fate that he would have suffered at the hands of the Directors had he not escaped, Howard is met with the injury of his… apprentice being better at his job than he is, and (even worse) being better at growing facial hair. Real wonderful man of action he is. Not even the first choice of the Directors for their ridiculous zoo, and after years of dedicated service, the bizzaro world professional version of Fossil has clearly replaced his head keeper position. 

Howard quickly ducks into one of the shrubs lining the path for better observation and starts to formulate a plan. 

*  
Vince sighs as he curls into himself on the couch in the keeper’s hut, wrapped tightly in Howard’s jacket. He tries to remember the elation he felt this morning, the feeling like he was light as air and floating, knowing Howard was coming back at any moment. He just feels tired now, gray and washed out, his high expectations for the day combining with all the work he’s put into the Zooniverse over the past two weeks. He pictured the day going so much differently: Howard striding back from his trip, energized and full of dynamic thoughts, delighted at what Vince has managed to accomplish, proud of and touched by his moustache tribute.

He checks his watch. Still enough time left for Howard to show up so they can spend the rest of night watch together, with Howard recounting tales of his travels with a gleam in his eye and his favorite mug of tea tucked in his hand. The thought is as soothing as a warm blanket, and before Vince knows it, he’s drifting off to sleep picturing Howard’s affectionate grin when he sees Vince’s magnificent moustache, feeling Howard’s large hand dart out to gently ruffle his hair.

*

Howard lifts the latch to the door of the keeper’s hut and steps in carefully, trying to avoid the floorboard that squeaks. Shit. Not that one! He gingerly lifts his foot up millimeter by painstaking millimeter and rolls his eyes when he realizes that of course, the floorboards have been fixed in this shiny new version of the Zooniverse. He considers stomping on each and every one of them out of spite, but stealth and quiet are his key words, so he settles for fixing the floorboards with a withering glare instead.

Vince is sprawled out on the cramped couch, one arm over his face, softly snoring like a badger. Howard creeps closer. He doesn’t want to wake Vince, but he has to move his arm in order for his plan to work. He flexes his fingers, loosening up, then gingerly wraps his hand around Vince’s wrist, meaning to set his arm down gently at the edge of the couch. He’s distracted, though. Howard lifts Vince’s arm up higher to get a better look, and peels back the first layer of green fabric to find another layer underneath. He’s confused for a moment, then realizes that Vince is wearing his jacket. 

Oh, shit. Before he can analyze this discovery further, Howard realizes he’s held on to sleeping Vince’s wrist long enough to activate his innate cuddling instinct. When Vince is alert and awake, he’s hands-on, but when he’s asleep on night watch and Howard is nearby, he’ll practically burrow into him like a koala. Vince now has a good grip on Howard’s sweet-sticky shirt as he mumbles and turns in his sleep from his back onto his side.

Howard pauses and waits for Vince to settle. He can still make this plan work. It wouldn’t be worth calling himself a man of action if he couldn’t adjust and adapt to a situation, now would it? He leans closer, crouching by the side of the couch, sizing up Vince’s moustache in the ray of moonlight coming in through the window of the keeper’s hut. 

It really is a glorious moustache. Thick, full, perfectly shaped and groomed, and striking on Vince’s face. Howard takes the safety razor out of his pocket, and methodically starts shaving one side of the ‘tache off. 

He pauses in his work once he’s halfway through, and Vince’s eyes pop open. 

Before Howard knows what’s hit him, he’s flat on his back on the floor with Vince on top of him in a tangle of limbs made worse by the state of his sticky suit. Vince is putting his monkey strength to good use, pinning Howard down, but it’s less menacing than he might intend. As he tries to threaten Howard with all sorts of inventive bodily harm for breaking into the keeper’s hut and messing with him in his sleep, his voice gets higher until it breaks in an indignant squeak. Vince draws his arms in tight, preparing his shrew defense, but before he can strike, Howard gets his breath back and darts out a hand to stop him. 

“Vince! Wait! It’s me, Howard!” 

Vince freezes in shock, gaping, as he squeaks out an even higher-pitched “Howard?!” Before Howard can confirm, he’s driven further into the floor by the full force of Vince’s hug. “Howard! I can’t believe you’re back! What took you so long? And what you doin’, sneakin’ in here like that in the dark and scarin’ me half to death?” Vince pulls back from his enthusiastic embrace to grin at Howard, delighted to have him back. Well… he tries to pull back, but he finds himself stuck fully on Howard’s chest, the remaining sweets caking Howard’s suit having pasted the two together like sugary Pritt Stick. 

“Howard? Howard, we’re stuck, why are we stuck?” Howard sighs and drags them both up into a sitting position, resting his back against the chair pushed into the keeper’s hut table with Vince tucked into in his lap. “It’s a long story, little man,” he says, patting Vince’s back gently. “Settle in.”

*  
Howard rewinds to two weeks earlier. He tells Vince about immediately losing his money and travel tickets at the airport, takes him through being lost in the hot wasteland of the desert and the dark, damp chill of the forest. He doesn’t leave any detail out, from the loss of his suitcase to what happened to both of his traveling costumes. Vince winces and interjects with a soft “sorry, Howard” when he realizes his spare sweets were responsible for their current predicament. Vince nestles into Howard the longer he speaks, his face tucked up in Howard’s neck, the darkness of the hut and the danger of Howard’s tale unconsciously activating his need to huddle close for protection. 

When Howard gets to the ruse of the conference, and the Directors, and his near residence in the human zoo, Vince is shocked. He pulls back forcefully, unsticking them a bit so he can attempt to peer up at Howard’s face. “What! They never! They were gonna lock you up and put you on display? That is not on, Howard! I hope you gave them a right thrashing!” 

Howard clears his throat and shrugs a little, taking Vince with him as he lifts his broad shoulders. “Uhh... well… I did what any sensible tactician would do in that situation. I gathered my thoughts, really assessed the state of affairs - meditated deeply upon them, even - and decided to advance in the opposite direction.” 

Vince nods sagely and gives Howard a gentle squeeze. “You’ve had a real shocker, Howard, but I got somethin’ to show you, cheer you right up.” Howard can feel Vince grinning against his neck as Vince extends his arm up to grasp blindly at the top of the table. He carefully pulls down one of the old metal lanterns scattered around the hut to give them some light, and begins trying to unstick the two of them. 

After an extended wriggling session proves somewhat successful for giving both of them more range of motion, Vince leans back with his hand covering the lower half of his face. Howard can tell the moment that Vince realizes something is wrong. Even with his mouth covered, Howard can see the disappointment and panic begin to bloom in Vince’s big eyes. 

Vince ducks back down, frantically patting the front of Howard’s suit, searching, but Howard can’t bring himself to ask what’s wrong when he knows he’s the cause. “This can’t be right,” Vince moans, clapping his hand to his face. He leans back, his expression mournful, words muffled through his hand. “I wanted to surprise you, Howard, so I grew a moustache while you were gone. It was amazing, you’d have been well proud, but it must have gotten stuck in that patch of wine gums on your suit. It’s half gone.” 

Vince lets his hand drop so Howard can take in all of his face, his half moustache and his downcast expression. He looks so small and sad with the light from the lantern flickering on his face, shadows extending his already-long lashes. 

Alright, Howard. Time to live up to your man of action name. 

Howard takes a deep breath. He reaches out to cup Vince’s face in his hands, and reverently strokes the remaining half of Vince’s moustache tribute. “Vince? Vince, I’m sorry.” 

Vince looks at him with confusion, a slight furrow to his brow. “Sorry for what?”

“I’ve been an absolute idiot fool, Vince. A petty, immature titbox-” is as far as Howard gets before Vince cuts him off. “Howard, don’t say that. You’ve had a tough two weeks with all you’ve been through. You couldn’t’ve known what was goin’ to happen, you can’t see the future.”

“I couldn’t have known what was going to happen, Vince, but I could have prevented how I acted and what I did.” Vince looks even more confused, mouth open and ready to interject again. Howard rushes on before he has the chance and blurts out the next part of his confession. “I wasn’t thinking straight after the past two weeks, and it’s no excuse, but… it wasn’t the wine gums, Vince, it was me. I was jealous. I saw everything you did as head keeper after two weeks, while I was wandering around like a fool, thinking I was off to some grand adventure. I was jealous of everything you were capable of, and of you growing that moustache in two weeks, so I shaved it off. It was immature of me, and stupid, and a horrible way to react after everything wonderful you’ve done. I’m so sorry, Vince.” 

Vince is silent as he processes Howard’s apology. Howard doesn’t remember the last time he saw Vince truly speechless, and every moment that he doesn’t respond is the harshest reprimand Howard can imagine. He knows he deserves it after what he’s done. 

He can’t believe it when he feels Vince dart out and wrap him in a hug, clinging around his neck, breath hot in his ear. “S’okay, Howard,” Vince whispers softly. “I wish you would just talk to me ‘stead of bottling things up and getting like this, creepin’ round at night like a freak. I understand you’re stressed. Head keeper’s a well difficult job. I can see why you wanted a break for a bit, ‘specially after managing Fossil. He’s unbelievable! I caught him trying to sellotape one of the lobsters to the back of the tortoise this afternoon because he said they looked at him funny. I never imagined all the things you had to keep straight ‘round here, Howard. Really, it’s okay.”

Vince’s kind words and forgiveness make Howard feel even worse about what he’s done. “But, Vince, a man’s bond with his moustache is sacred! I’m ashamed I violated that covenant. It’s an unforgivable action… I don’t deserve to wear this moustache after disgracing yours. Do you see that safety razor anywhere?” 

Vince shakes his head at Howard’s dramatic protestations and grabs his arms to prevent him from searching for the razor.“S’alright, Howard, really. I can grow a better one by next Tuesday anyway. Just promise me you’ll remember one thing: you ‘n’ me are better together, as a team.”

Howard smiles down at Vince, feeling an overwhelming mix of pride and love and relief bubbling up inside. “I promise, little man.” Vince beams up at Howard, the sweetness in his face pulling Howard’s heartstrings into knots. He puts a hand to Howard’s face, and the two fall into a gentle kiss, Vince’s half moustache brushing against Howard’s. 

When they break the kiss, Vince has his eyes closed in bliss. “There, Howard, now it’ll always be true, cos we sealed it with a kiss,” he breathes. He’s so beautiful that Howard has to duck back in for another kiss. As Howard’s moustache brushes against the bare half of Vince’s upper lip, he shivers involuntarily. “It feels like being kissed all over,” he says against Howard’s lips, the wonder apparent in his voice. 

Howard clears his throat. “Now there’s an idea, Vince. Maybe we can try that next?”

Vince’s grin tells Howard all he needs to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guess the line that confirmed that this fic needed to be written? It was Vince's casual response to Howard shaving off his 'tache: “S’alright, Howard, really. I can grow a better one by next Tuesday anyway." 
> 
> Also, if you've never seen a shoebilled stork before, Google 'em. They're equal parts terrifying and amazing, and therefore necessary to include in this fic.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pop in to a new destination on the Zooniverse map, peak Fossil chaos occurs, Howard's in and out of a very troublesome towel, there are nuns, and the keeper's hut finally catches on fire. It's a good one, kids.

After a lot of writhing and twisting and panting, and plenty of “not there, Vince, here”s and “you’re doing it wrong, Howard”s, the pair finally come completely unstuck. Both Howard and Vince decided a shower was in order for Howard before anything else could happen. After a few more kisses, Howard stands up and offers Vince a hand, pulling him up and dusting him off. He doesn’t bother to straighten the tatters of his traveling costume. He’s left a lot of it on Vince’s uniform and some on the floorboards as well, but Vince doesn’t seem to mind. He’s grinning like he’s on cloud nine. 

Vince is practically stumbling over his own feet with excitement as he pulls Howard by the hand down one of the pathways. Howard can’t help but notice that the Zooniverse looks even more radiant in the moonlight. The paint on the buildings is practically sparkling, and the pavement looks so fresh and clean, like someone’s polished it with a toothbrush. “Vince, when did you find the time to do all of this maintenance? That wasn’t even on the itinerary,” he says, gesturing around at the tidy courtyard as they pass through. “Oh, that? It was no big deal, I brought Naboo some eight tracks he was tryin’ to hunt down and he worked a little shaman magic for me. He’s on a real Fleetwood Mac kick. Guess they didn’t have the Penguin album on ‘is home planet.” 

Vince throws the door to one of the smaller storage sheds open and flicks the lights. Where there used to be dusty sacks of feed and dried out cans of paint, there’s an old claw-foot tub against one wall instead. Complete with fancy soap and fluffy towels, Howard notes approvingly (no monograms, though). There’s a large mirror in a heavy vintage frame resting against the opposite wall, along with a few chairs and a bench with styling tools and scissors, and a shelf with a huge assortment of hair and beauty products takes up a third wall. “This was my other project while you were gone. Naboo was so grateful he had Bollo help me shift the junk that was clutterin’ up the place so I could have a hideout from Fossil when I needed a break.” 

From the doorway of the storage shed, the pair can see into Fossil’s office window. He’s still on the phone, even at this late hour, and still signing documents. Howard jerks his thumb in Fossil’s direction. “How’d you get him to straighten out, anyway?” “I didn’t, Howard. After I hung those stupid curtains and did his well weird chanting this mornin’, he accidentally buttoned all the buttons on his uniform when he was changing out of his calisthenics outfit, and I think he got stuck in some loop. I couldn’t figure out how to get him to stop. He wasn’t hurtin’ anyone, and I thought he’d tire himself out eventually, but he’s still goin’.” 

Howard nods in understanding. “The buttons, okay. I’ve dealt with this before… I’ll handle this once I’m cleaned up, Vince. Shouldn’t take long. You go on back to the hut and I’ll meet you there once I’m finished.” 

Vince tears down the path as Howard tosses the rest of his traveling costume in the bin and heads for the bath.

*  
Well scrubbed and thoroughly refreshed, Howard pads into Fossil’s office. As a gentleman and man of action, Howard knows that sometimes, one has their best thoughts in moments of quiet and peaceful relaxation. Not that he’s gotten many of those moments since starting work as head keeper at the zoo. Especially not when the loudspeaker would beckon him to Fossil’s office multiple times a day. But as he soaked in the sweet-scented water, Howard did some reflecting. Yes, he did decide that the next time he visited Vince’s secret spa, he’d require some assistance from the proprietor himself. Some hands on assistance. Very hands on, in fact.

But that was beside the point. Howard had had some time to think, and that was what was important. He steps commandingly into Fossil’s office in his bath towel and fuzzy slippers and observes the scene. 

Fossil looks up from his phone conversation when he hears his office door open, and beckons Howard over to his desk, seemingly not processing Howard’s attire (or lack thereof). He looks up at Howard, holding the phone slightly away from his ear, and pulls a face, rolling his eyes and moving his hand to cover the receiver. “Blah blah blah, get on with it already. I’m a busy man with a zoo to run,” he says to Howard, as if stating an obvious fact. 

Howard can hear the dial tone rolling out of the receiver before Fossil swings his feet up on the desk and launches into a commanding diatribe. “No, YOU’LL be the ones to pay the phone bill for the penguin incident. No, the Zooniverse will take no responsibility or liability. You know what I say: if it ends in ‘ility,’ it’s got nothin’ to do with me. Okay. Okay. Yada yada yada. Fine, sure, send the penguins down for a visit. Whatever you say, buddy.” He’s shaking his head at Howard and pointing at the phone, as if they’re close business colleagues sharing a laugh at the expense of the poor sap on the other end of the line. 

“Mr. Fossil?” Howard cuts in during the pause in the conversation. Fossil swings his feet off the desk, resting his elbows on the top instead, staring down as if he can’t be disturbed in his conversation. When Howard repeats Fossil’s name, he lifts one finger dramatically to tell Howard to wait. Howard thinks an eye roll isn’t enough to cover what he’s feeling (perhaps a full body sigh would do) as he waits for Fossil to sign off of his call. Fossil ends with a cheerful promise to meet the other party at the club. “Of course you’ll be buying the drinks, you cheapskate. Oh yes. Oh yes. I’ll tell the wife you said hello. Don’t worry about saying hi to your wife, I saw her last night. Whoa! Just kidding, man, just kidding… it was last week! Hey there! Alright. Alright. Alrightalrightalrightalright. Buh-bye now, buh-bye.”

Fossil drops the phone back in its cradle, shaking his head in delight as he catches his breath. He grabs a fountain pen from his desk, uncapping it to return to signing documents as he looks up at Howard with a grin on his face. “That was my accountant. He’s also my lawyer and priest, and sometimes he cooks for me when he’s not in jail. Now what can I do for you? If you’re here about the penguins, you already heard my answer.”

Howard stares at Fossil and states flatly, “Mr. Fossil? It’s me, Howard Moon, back from the convention? I don’t know anything about any penguins, but I came to talk to you-”

“Howard Moon? What the hell kind of a name is that?” Fossil looks at Howard, sizing him up. “You look like a Burt or a Clarence or a,” and here he lets out a very long, very high pitched whine that makes Howard lean back from the desk to protect his eardrums. Howard’s pretty sure that Fossil’s woken up the slumbering animals (and triggered a rage response in most of them) based on the noises filtering back into the office. Fossil returns to the pages, signing his name in triplicate with his tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

Howard sighs. “Mr. Fossil, I didn’t want to have to do this, but there are several important things I need to discuss with you about some changes that will be happening at the zoo now that I’ve returned from the conference, and if you won’t listen to reason, this is my only choice.”

When his dramatic proclamation doesn’t do anything to lull Fossil out of his document-signing reverie, Howard leans over the desk and claps twice to get Fossil’s attention. Fossil freezes, then slowly lifts his head up to meet Howard’s expectant expression, eyes large and spacey. Now’s his chance: Howard reaches forward quickly, trying to undo one of the firmly buttoned buttons on Fossil’s safari suit. Howard’s miscalculated, though, knocking into the PA system microphone and upsetting a cup of pens off the end of the desk. He ends up tapping Fossil ineffectually on the nose instead of fixing his suit and putting him back to… normal? As normal as Fossil could get, anyway, he thinks.

Fossil comes crashing out of his temporary halt as Howard jerks back and stoops to pick up the pens before he trips on them during his next attempt to reset Fossil. “What the hell was that, Moon? I’m an important businessman doing important business things with my phone ringing off the hook and you come into my office and waste my time and boop me on the nose? I’ll sue the pants off of you-”

There’s not really a need for that, though, as Howard stands up with the pen cup in his hand, and realizes he left his loose towel pooled around his ankles on the floor. 

Fossil’s jaw drops as his topmost button pops undone at lightning speed and embeds itself into the wall across the room. “Holy glorious mother of jock straps, it’s Howard Moon!” he shouts at top volume, flinging documents into the air like celebration confetti.

*  
Vince fluffs the pile of blankets and pillows he’s spread out over the sleeping bags on the keeper’s hut floor and surveys his handiwork. The curtains are drawn over the windows, and he’s dotted a few extra lanterns around the room, strategically placed to provide the most flattering lighting. He even found some old ends of candles in one of the cupboards of the hut, and lit them in a juice glass on the counter by the doorway. His last step to getting ready was shaving off the rest of his moustache in the mirror over the couch.

He puts his hand over his chest and can feel his heart racing as he waits for Howard to return. Waiting’s a lot easier now, knowing that Howard is nearby, and definitely coming back, and not in some unknown place. Vince feels the anticipation he usually associates with waiting for night watch begin, but it’s deeper now, and full of answered promise. The promise that the two of them will be a team, a pair, a dynamic duo. Hopefully, a couple.

Vince is broken out of his daydream as he hears a high pitched whine coming from the direction of Fossil’s office, followed by a cascade of foul language from the animals. He winces as he hears the filth coming from the Koala Palace: bit of an overreaction, really, he thinks. Sounds like Howard must be putting Fossil back to normal… as normal as Fossil could get, anyway.

Not long to wait, then. He tilts his cowboy hat down over his face, stretching his body out over the nest of blankets, crossing his feet in their cowboy boots at his ankles, loosely resting his arms across his stomach. Vince can’t help the little grin that creeps onto his face. 

*  
Howard’s beaming as he jogs up the path to the keeper’s hut in his (securely double knotted towel) and fuzzy slippers. He fixes his hair and smoothes his moustache down before bursting through the door of the hut, wanting to make a grand entrance. 

When he sees Vince laid out before him, all of his man of action, conquering hero returning from battle, swoop in and save the day bravado leaves him temporarily. He feels his heart glow in his chest as Vince tilts his cowboy hat up, a little smile on his face, reminding Howard of how he looked two weeks ago, how he looked in Howard’s imagination when he needed guidance and a good reason to make his escape from the Directors. 

“Alright, Howard?” Vince says softly, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the candlelight as his gaze skates up and down Howard’s body. 

“Great, little man. Perfect. Better than perfect,” Howard replies, kicking his slippers off as he fumbles at the double knot of his towel. “Um… magnificent. Transcendent. Sublime. Majestic… damn it!” 

Vince’s giggles turn to shock as Howard finally breaks the knot loose and flings his towel to the right, striding purposefully towards Vince.

Vince’s eyes widen as Howard approaches him. “Yeah, it’s a lot to take in,” he wants to say in his most modest of tones, but Vince interrupts him before he can. “Howard, Howard, fire!” “I know, Vince, it’s getting hot in here. I’m glad you feel it too,” Howard responds. Just as Howard’s about to close the gap between them, Vince shoots up from his recumbent position and grabs Howard’s towel from the floor. “No, Howard, you set the hut on fire!” he squeaks in panic, swiping at the countertop and one of the curtains with the towel, where Howard’s transcendent, sublime, and majestic throw has knocked the candles out of the juice glass. 

While Vince extinguishes the patches of flame scorching the countertop, Howard rips the curtain down and tosses it into the sink. Thank God it’s nighttime and no one is around walking down the the pathways to peep in the window, he thinks, just as he spots a nighttime tour group walking down the pathway, craning their necks towards the keeper’s hut to peep in the windows. It’s a group of nuns, guided by Joey Moose, who’s gesturing towards the keeper’s hut and telling them what devout and clean cut keepers the zoo employs. No Zooniverse employee would ever dream of prank calling a convent multiple times in one afternoon, never mind uttering word one of any penguin joke, Howard hears him state enthusiastically. 

Before Vince knows what’s hit him, Howard sweeps the pots and pans off the counter, scoops him up, and presses him back into the window.

“Howard! Howard, what you doin’ now?!” Vince squeaks, starting to wriggle as Howard extends Vince’s arms out so his double jacket layer blocks the view of the nosy nuns. With both his hands occupied keeping Vince’s arms up as a barrier from the pious eyes outside, Howard shushes Vince the best way he can think of: he presses forward, inching towards Vince’s face, coming closer until he could count each one of his long lashes, each one of the individual shadows they cast over his cheeks. Vince stills, lips parted. 

“Vince. Don’t move, and keep quiet. There’s a group of nuns outside the window.” Vince’s head shoots up, eyes as large as a bush baby’s. Before he can wheel around to see, Howard brushes his lips against Vince’s and he freezes in place. Howard is faintly aware of the swish of robes on the ground outside the window, and Joey’s eager tour guide patter is filtering through from some far away place too. As the kiss deepens, all Howard can focus on is Vince and the pliant softness of his lips. 

A bit of his hair is tickling Howard’s cheek, brushing teasingly against the side of his face as Howard presses closer, sliding his tongue against Vince’s. This close, Vince smells like sunflower seeds and crisp apples and fresh, clean hay, warmed to perfection in the sun. It’s too much all at once, and not enough. Before Howard can stop himself, he’s dropped Vince’s arms and brought one hand to Vince’s face, burying the other in his hair. 

There aren’t any sounds of shocked screaming outside from the sisters. The hut doesn’t burst into flames. There’s no Fossil, no feeding schedules, no suits sticky with melted candy and bits of menacing forest, no terrifying anthropomorphic animals with evil intent, no pressing demands, no distance. There’s just the two of them, wrapped up in each other, sharing each other’s breath as the full moon shines peacefully outside.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a sweet, happy, fluffy ending, featuring another line right at the end that let me know I had to write this fic.

Howard lays Vince down in the nest of blankets and slowly sets to work undressing him. He tosses Vince’s cowboy hat onto the couch and tucks his boots underneath it. His odd socks end up under the table and his studded belt curls on the floor nearby like a dozing cat. Howard smiles affectionately down at Vince as he peels away the first layer of their uniform jackets, miming shock and surprise when he finds another jacket underneath. Vince gives him a sheepish grin in return that starts to waver a bit as Howard runs a hand down the center of Vince’s chest, down his stomach, stopping to rest his palm at the hem of his t-shirt. He can feel Vince’s breath quicken as he pulls the shirt up and tosses it over his shoulder with one hand, unzipping Vince’s uniform trousers with the other. 

Last to go are Vince’s little pink pants. Howard considers them, flicking his gaze to Vince’s face and then back to the pants, dangling them from one finger. “Think we should hang these on the doorknob outside in case Sister Annunciata comes back looking for a cup of tea and a digestive?” 

Vince cackles, the lantern light highlighting the glow of mischief in his eyes. “You’re a knob-” he says, laughter and delight bubbling out of him, before Howard flings the pants in the direction of the door and drapes himself over Vince’s body. He presses a line of kisses down Vince’s neck and back up his jaw, his warm breath and his moustache ticklish against Vince’s soft skin. 

Vince turns to kiss him, but Howard draws back. “Wait, little man,” he breathes into Vince’s ear as Vince shivers at the sensation. Howard plans to make good on their idea from earlier, to kiss back down Vince’s neck, to his collarbone, his chest, his stomach. To let him experience what it feels like to be kissed everywhere. 

*  
Howard is nothing if not a thorough man. He presses his lips gently behind Vince’s ear, harder across his collarbones and ribs. He places a kiss in the palm of Vince’s hand before moving his arm up to rest on the pile of blankets above his head. He mouths teasingly up and down the soft skin at the inside of Vince’s arm.

Vince has been making little noises that started off sounding appreciative, but are beginning to sound more breathy by the time he’s pressing fluttery kisses across the warm plane of Vince’s stomach. Vince gasps in anticipation the lower Howard goes, feeling him mouth over the taut muscle of his thighs and calves and slip a wet kiss behind his knee. He’s starting to feel overwhelmed by sensation by the time Howard drops a dusting of kisses over his ankle bone and starts to move back up his body.

Howard tilts Vince’s head back to place a kiss to the underside of his jaw, fingers gliding over his skin. He pauses for a moment, resting on his side, trying to catch his own breath, and trails his other hand down Vince’s stomach to settle on the jut of his hipbone. 

Vince is practically glowing, his expression of bliss as luminescent as a cloud of fireflies. He’s radiating heat, his head thrown back, mouth open as he huffs out little sighs of pleasure. He’s so stunning that Howard can’t wait any longer. After his journey up and down Vince’s body, Howard finally brings their lips together in a consuming, hungry kiss. At the same time, in one fluid motion, he reaches down and wraps his hand around Vince, beginning to stroke him steadily. 

As Howard deepens the kiss, he can feel Vince melting into him, purring with pleasure as he pushes his hips into Howard’s hand. When they break the kiss, Vince turns to face him, lining their bodies up so Howard can take both of them together in his large hand, their limbs tangled in the mess of sleeping bags and blankets. 

Vince comes first, his face nestled in Howard’s shoulder, his hand gripping the muscle of Howard’s arm loosening as he spirals hazily in the sensation, his body still tingling all over from Howard’s thorough kisses. Howard’s not far behind, feeling Vince’s breath tickling his neck, his hair tickling his jaw, his fingertips biting, then ghosting over his arm. Vince cuddles into Howard, pressing their bodies together tightly as he pulls a blanket over them, Howard still feeling the pleasure uncoiling from the base of his spine. 

Vince throws a leg over Howard’s hip even as he gives him a chaste, shy kiss on the corner of his mouth, hands in Howard’s hair and running down his back and cupping his arse all at once. “That was genius, Howard,” he murmurs, playing with a strand of Howard’s hair, curling the tendril around his finger and letting it go before he combs his fingers through. Howard’s still feeling a little breathless, so he responds with a series of loose, sloppy kisses. 

“Teamwork is a powerful concept, Vince,” he says once his heart’s slowed down enough. “A lot of responsibility to perform your duties to a certain standard.” He kisses Vince’s cheek, his nose, the curve of his brow. “I regret to inform you, Vince, that I held back in my contribution. I shirked my responsibility.” 

Vince is looking at him with a mixture of confusion and delight. “You’re sayin’ that wasn’t your best?” he says, eyebrow raised, the lantern light catching the point of his canines. “Far from, little man,” Howard responds, slipping the tip of his finger into his mouth. “I can think of a few places I missed kissing.” 

Vince can feel Howard’s hand sliding across his hip, can feel his fingertip gently moving lower to circle him as a wolfish grin breaks out on Howard’s face. “What do you say we give it another shot? For the sake of the team?” 

By the time the sun rises over the Zooniverse the next morning, despite Naboo’s powerful fix-up magic, the pair of them have managed to return at least six of the keeper’s hut floorboards to a squeaky state.

*

Vince splashes at Howard through a shimmering rainbow mass of bubbles, soaking in the old claw foot tub in his hideout as Howard steps out and starts to towel his hair dry. He dodges most of the spray and sits in one of the chairs on the opposite wall, waiting for Vince to finish up with his pampering. After they’d both woken up sticky and sore, but giddy at their reunion, Howard had shared his thoughts on all of the things he thought would do him good after two weeks of strenuous travel. Many of them involving a visit to a certain secret spa for some - ahem - treatments from the owner. 

Vince stretches languidly in the warm water, dipping his foot out of the bubbles spilling over the side of the tub and leaning his head back against the rim. “Are you gonna float in there all day, little man?” “Might do,” Vince responds lazily, bringing his hand up to drip beads of water down his throat. “Depends what else is on offer.”

“There’s still a few things I can think of. In fact, remember the fourth time last night? What if we did that, but reversed-” Howard starts. He’s interrupted by the squawk of the loudspeaker outside. “Staff announcement: will Howard Moon and Vince Noir please… uhhh… ummm….” Vince sits up in the tub, perplexed at the combination of Howard’s satisfied grin and the tone of confusion in Fossil’s voice. “Uhhh… will Howard Moon and Vince Noir please… take the day off? No sweeping, no feeding, no night watch duties? Is that right? Damn you, Howard Moon, and your amazing conference-based head keeper knowledge!” Fossil’s weeping as he signs off. 

Vince jets out of the tub. “Howard, what was that all about? Is he still broken? I thought you took care of that last night?”

“I did, Vince. We had a little chat after I put him back to normal. As normal as he could get, anyway. Some things were… uh… revealed in the course of fixing him, but the point is, I told Fossil that as head keeper, I would be enacting some changes around here.”

“How’d you ever get him to agree to anythin’? He wouldn’t even listen when I told him not to wash his hands in the piranha tank!”

“Well, Vince, I simply told him about my two weeks away at the conference. After all of the knowledge I gained, I’d received an offer from the Directors to move to their zoo on a permanent basis. Once he heard that, he was all too eager to accept my terms.”

“Your offer from the Directors? You told Fossil that you were almost put on display in their zoo?!”

“No, not in those exact terms, Vince. I… finessed them. Caressed them. Held them gently through the night and released them into the waiting air like doves-” Howard’s gesturing with his hands, staring off into the middle distance again. Vince rolls his eyes.

“So what you’re sayin’, then, is you gave him a load of bollocks.”

“What? Gave him a look at my bollocks?”

“What?!”

The pair stare at each other for a moment, and the moment passes. Howard’s first to break the silence. “Anyway… I had Fossil eating out of the palm of my hand. He doesn’t want to lose me to another zoo, so he agreed to my requests. I drew up a list for him, in case he forgets. No more 24 hour schedules, increased zoo staff to help with the cleaning and feeding, a larger budget for animal enrichment, and no more running his errands.”

Vince is beaming as he flings himself into Howard’s lap, squeezing him with all his monkey strength. “Howard! That’s amazin’! Look at you! I always said you were well clever!”

Howard manages to extract one arm from the crush of Vince’s embrace. He ruffles the hair at the top of Vince’s head. “That’s not all, little man. After being away and seeing what you’d managed to do in two weeks, I talked to Fossil and he agreed you should receive a promotion for all of your hard work. How does head groomer sound?” 

“What! Howard, no way!” Vince squawks, his grip around Howard’s ribs tightening even further. “Head keeper and head groomer, off to take the Zooniverse by storm! This is amazin’! I can’t wait to tell Bollo ‘n’ Naboo! Howard, d’you think there’s room in the budget for more hair products?” 

Howard wraps his arm around Vince’s back, returning his enthusiastic embrace. “I’m sure that could count as animal enrichment. Somehow. Anyway, you deserve this, little man.” Vince leans back, his big eyes full of delight. “Maybe this trip was a good thing after all, Howard.” “Maybe,” Howard responds, pulling Vince back down to rest his head on Howard’s chest, cuddling him in his arms. 

“You know what they say,” Vince says, nuzzling into Howard’s neck. “Mmm? What’s that?” “Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.” Howard quirks his brow. “That… I don’t think that’s quite right, little man. Let’s not test that theory out in either form, okay?”

“Okay, Howard,” Vince says dreamily, leaning up to catch Howard’s lips in a sweet, long kiss.


End file.
